Time.. Passes

BFF came back on Sunday and well, like I've said before - some things aren't real until they are told to my dear ole Mandy. And last week is one of those episodes.

But I am sure of this... one fine morning, I will wake up without certain persons and certain questions on my mind.

As with all things in life that I have come to learn - patience... time too will pass.

A Fresh Chapter

ob⋅li⋅ga⋅tion ~ noun

1. Something by which a person is bound or obliged to do certain things, and which arises out of a sense of duty or results from custom, law, etc.
2. Something that is done or is to be done for such reasons
3. A binding promise, contract, sense of duty, etc.
4. The act of binding or obliging oneself by a promise, contract, etc.
5. A debt of gratitude

One of the things that has changed about life as I know it (even though technically, there should not be any changes!!) is the reconnection of old ties. Ties that got severed when bridges burnt down. Ties that extend from my own self to Lydia and Luke. And for the better part, the tale of reconnection is not mine. It is theirs.

We begin life with few obligations. We pledge allegiance to the flag. We swear to return our library books.

For all their lives, when one mentions 'grandparents', these two only know of my mum and dad. They are the ones they see, day in, day out. They are the ones who nurse them when they are ill, dance with joy when they get great exam scores and beam with pride at each and every school function.

They have always known they have another set of grandparents somewhere out there, but it has never been a subject of discussion due to some persona non grata thingy. This other set are virtual strangers to my kids.

But as we get older we take vows, make promises, get burden by commitments, to do no harm, to tell the truth and nothing but, to love, to cherish till death do us part.

Tonight they will meet them, in person, technically for the first time. And both sides are nervous as hell, with me stuck in between. 

Luke and Lydia both have questions - plenty. Where have they been? What are their names? Do they know who we are? And my folks and I have been trying our level best to prepare them for the meeting ~ yes, these sort of meetings cannot be left to chance so some preparation needs to be done and out of the way first.

I have given them a rough physical description. Have told them the language barrier challenge. And the very high likelihood of how they might want to "hold your hand, touch your face, give you a bear hug" because they are a reminder of what is now gone.

So we just keep running up the tab 'til we owe everything to everybody and suddenly ... what the.

I also know that the unsaid behind this first step is that I am effectively casting my children into a different set of cultural shoes. From now on, Luke is the eldest grandchild. If we were royalties, he would now be the first in line. And with that, in our culture would come certain responsibilities that would need fulfilling when the time comes.

I also know the old folks would not ask this of me but I could not possibly be so callous as to always leave the offering to come from their end. I would have to occasionally consider doing a road-trip with the kids so they "go home" instead.

And I am wondering if this would keep up.

So we do what any sane person would do. We run like hell from our promises, hoping they'll be forgotten. But sooner or later, they always catch up. 

Regardless of what happens from here on out, it would have to be something I factor into my life, our lives. But as with everything else that I have done in the last 4 days, I'm not dreading it. In fact, I am pleased that the children would get to know a different side of their life.

After all... sooner or later, this would all have had to take place anyways.

And sometimes you find the obligation you dread the most isn't worth running from at all.

How's That Charlie Brown?

The dictionary defines grief as keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.

For 2 days, friends, colleagues and cousins have asked me if I am okay. For a spell, I wondered “Why?” What is the rationale or reason for asking? Is there any reason why I should not be? Is it not all water under the whatever now? After all, it has been years and it’s not as if I do not still know how to love or be happy. So why? Why should I not be alright? Why do I need to grieve? WHAT IS THERE to grieve about?

There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us, but there are always five.

Ben told me to keep the head’s up – that all this sudden rush of mention would find a way to duck me when I least expect it. I silently laughed at his text. And coolly told him that I was only going to go say my peace, for the last time and then be done with it.

Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone.

But because he is my Jiminy Cricket, and because he has been in his way, preparing me to accept death as part and parcel of life and living, he also saw all the demons I have been keeping at bay, toying with them in lil bits and then saying I’m done.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

In many ways, my mourning started years ago. And if this finality is anything to go by, it sees me moving into the last of it. A calm acceptance of how things had turned out, that I had given it my all, have been giving it my all. Perhaps I could have done a little bit more but there’s nothing I can do about it now. And all said and done, we’ve done well for ourselves in the end, in our own way.

But what I did wrong was imprint onto my children that they too should feel and think the same way I do. I did the whole gung-ho thing on their behalf when Ben said it was sad, to think that Lydia and Luke now shared the category of having lost a parent, by telling Ben they never had him anyways.

It isn’t just death we have to grieve. It’s life. It’s loss. It’s change.

I should have seen it coming when Luke, age 6, solemnly told me that my analogy of his father-and-son relationship is akin to Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker (complete with the ‘Luke I am your father’ saying) WAS NOT FUNNY AT ALL. I guess in a way I did, as did my brother who was in the vicinity. But I brushed it off as Luke having one of his moments and not understanding or appreciating Star Wars.

Lydia had her complete meltdown at night prayers, with her legendary heart-wrenching sobs with a smeared howl of “I can never say goodbye to him anymore.” And of asking if she could see him one last time.

My brave lil soldiers kept it all in, in my presence until their little hearts could hold it no more.

The very worst part is that the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away.

Sitting down in my folks’ front porch this evening, they wanted to know everything. What does he look like now? Who is there at his memorial? What is he wearing? Did I take a photo of him in the coffin? Why did his heart stop beating? Why did he go away? And... Did he love them?

Grief comes in its own time for everyone, in its own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do, is try for honesty. 

I did not want these two youngsters to think they were not loved, or they were at fault. And so I forced myself to remember all the good times, all the good things. But they were slow in coming, because I didn’t want them to. Cos to remember the good times would only bring me to my feet and wept for a life past.

The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes. And let it go when we can.

But I know that whatever I said this evening will come back again and again ~ kids being kids, what they do not understand or comprehend, they do not retain. And so I had to do it. I had to dig out everything from the box double, triple sealed and go through everything that was once life as I knew it.

And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad. The thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive.

So yes, I am grieving tonight.

Grieving for a life lost not quite so old.

Grieving how he will never see any of his children step up to receive their scroll, don a white dress and veil, giving him their hand to walk down the aisle, stand at the altar beaming as his would-be daughter-in-law come up to them.

Grieving how Lydia and Luke would never have the chance to say “You are my father and I am your son, daughter.”

Grieving for how I would never be able to say again “You can see them if you wanted to.”

When it hurts so much you can't breathe, that's how you survive.

I can smile now. Not a false bravado smile. I can live with the far-fetch thought that if Lydia wanted to put one of the framed pictures out by her bedside, I would not avoid going into her room.

By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly, you won't feel this way.

I have been here before. And I came out of it.

It won't hurt this much.

The three of us will be alright.

Done & Dusted

I think I will go down in the "memorial flashbacks" as the loony-one who had a one-sided conversation by the brown box in the hall. 

Take all of your wasted honour

Every little past frustration

Take all of your so-called problems,

Better put 'em in quotations

And it was a surreal experience - for once, I had the last word in ~ which is rare if you put it in context. 

Walking like a one man army

Fighting with the shadows in your head

Living out the same old moment

Knowing you'd be better off instead,

If you could only . . .

And I could say everything that has ever come to mind but left hidden. Tho the best part of it all would be how I was able to rag into him (Obesity??? WTF happened to you?!) like I do with my buddies.

Even if your hands are shaking

And your faith is broken

Even as the eyes are closing

Do it with a heart wide open

But it don't really matter what "tag" has likely been given to me ~ I've said all I needed to say... including "I forgive you" which I think was what I really needed to do in the very end. 

Have no fear for giving in

Have no fear for giving over

You'd better know that in the end

It's better to say too much

Then never say what you need to say again

And now that faces and names have been put in their right proper place, burnt bridges mended in a manner of sorts, it's time to move on.

Author's Note:

I would like to express my utter appreciation to all buddies who carried me through it.. Would not have been able to do it without your logic, rationale and strength!

In Memory Of...

For about 5 minutes as my phone kept beeping in church, my mind fast forwarded to what it could mean, when an old friend says "My condolence." All scenarios played itself out in double-time. It wasn't till a second old contact called that I knew in my heart of hearts, that it was what I dared not imagine.

My children's biological father passed away in the wee hours of this morning. He was only 41 years, 1 month and 22 days old.

I am surprised at myself. That it shook me enough to sink me to the ground and burst into tears. And it still does, hours later. Better get any tear-shedding done and out of the way. It won't do for another little girl to ask her mummy who I am and why I was looking at her daddy and crying. 

If we had been better people, better human beings, we would have found ways to remain friends and co-exist in the lives of two other people we created. But we were not, and we will now never be. And I suppose that is ultimately it.

Perhaps, part of me, always thought that one day, in the justified world of right and wrong, my phone would ring or my email box would have a message, saying "I'm sorry" and that he would like to make it up to Lydia and Luke. Perhaps, he might have thought it and perhaps he also thought that he would live forever and so had all the time in the world to do it.

My religion tells me that when our souls leave our bodies, we go and stand before God, accounting for all the things we have done in our lives. I would like to think that God is now coming to that bit where He goes "So that episode, when you decided that you would no longer care or acknowledge that you have two children... How's about that one?" I cannot for the life of me, formulate his reply for him.

Our friends (yes, we still keep mutual friends) thought I ought to go - do the right thing and pay my last respects. I thought so as well, after all, everything is done and dusted already.   With the exception of Ben, my friends thought otherwise. I am torn. But as Paul rightfully said - it's not should or should not, but want or don't want. And it is a whole lot of soul-searching to arrive at which side of the line I stand on.

Just last night, my darling boy, rushed from one thing to another, sat in his chair, dog-tired, telling me how you don't really realise what you have lost until it's gone. How his mum used to ring him asking what time he'd be home and to say that dinner was on the table, and how he missed it after she left (yes, he can't bring himself to say the d-word). 

And being the darling that he is, my Jiminy Cricket, he says I should be there. This last time. Regardless of what had happened before, if I didn't do this, I would always be haunted by it and never close that chapter fully. And that because it is as it has turned out now, I need that closure myself in order to help Lydia and Luke close theirs when their turn comes as they grow older.

When I woke up this morning, I did not think today would unfold as such. If I am to learn anything today, it would only to re-emphasize just how short life is. We can love today, we can keep love for tomorrow. We can hold grudges, we can offer forgiveness. We can hold apologies, we can show magnanimity. 

There is no right or wrong answer. It boils down to what we choose and being able to live with that choice.

So yes, I will go and stand before a box in a hall today. I will dress myself in black and mourn for a moment as I would be required to mourn if things were different back then. And I do not need a reason to justify why I will do all these things, when I do not have to. 

For a spell, he was my sun and moon, day and night. We built dreams and we fought through their disappearance. What we had, we shared. For a spell, we had a world of our own and I have Lydia and Luke to show for it. 

In Memoriam

Chang Say Peng, Ray
26th August 1968 ~ 17th October 2009
Leaves behind a legacy of broken dreams and 3 children
At best, he tried...

I Am...

When Black Eye Peas came in few weeks ago, I let that one go, with VVIP access tickets in hand. It was after all Arthur's Day and heck, I didn't think anyone else I knew would have wanted to be there (in the midst of the Irish having their fun and black brew). Turned out that I was wrong. Someone did want to go.

So in about a week's time, one of the biggest music star of our decade is heading to our shores. Can't really say I'm a big fan of Beyonce, but a concert, is a concert, is a concert. The city is abuzz with talk of almost nothing but it. But looking at the ticket prices and not knowing any contacts in Maxis, the only way we were not going to miss this was to win a pair of tickets through this Alter-Ego radio contest, which accounts for why you hear her latest hit Sweet Dreams when you ring me.

I have always been quite the great one at winning these sort of frivolous stuff. But seriously, after days of listening to the winning names, I didn't think "Barbsie Loaded" stood a chance, up against these hyper-creative twenty-somethings die-hard daisies!

So imagine my surprise, to get a call late last night, asking "What does Loaded mean?" Yes - I got em tix and it gave me such a thrill that I did not hesitate to pick up the phone and dial. Only to come smashing down to earth and the harsh realities of life in 2009.

I have always said I wished I had a greater ability to hold anger and rage ~ make it last longer. Perhaps it's age - mellows one down to nothing but putty. But in reflection, I think it's the lack of fuel - when allowed to stew, rage can really brew.

I have never really been one to come out and say what's bugging me. But I must say, over the last year or so, I have learnt and learnt the lesson well. It doesn't have to come out in words that's harsh and hard. And it doesn't carry with it any risk of a back-fire or a stormy argument. Plus, you don't lose any sleep over it.

It may not be a situation that I like. It may not even be a situation that I appreciate. But it is a situation that I can understand, and more importantly, believe. 

So while said person may have way too many oddities for the rest of us to comprehend, it must be said that he is good for one thing and I'm sure those who know me would agree ~ He knows how to diffuse a loaded situation and put it to rest permanently, which would be a first in a lifetime of explosive plenty. And he does it in a way that doesn't make me feel just that wee bit tall or wake up the next day wondering if I've once again had the wool pulled over my eyes.

There you are

Always strong when I need you

You let me give

And now I live, fearless and protected

After all is said and done

The concert may be a miss... but I don't need to be in the presence of Sasha Fierce to know who I AM ultimately.

LB - I hope the seats are good ones and person-who-cannot-be-called-the-Gword enjoys it!

Do What You Must

The LegalBeagle asked me the other night over dinner "Do you mean to say that you're going to stick with this business for the next 10, 15 years?" and it blew me off-course a wee bit. The only other person who has thought that far about me and the Irish would be Monday, and even then, his line of thoughts were more on "Do you think either of the children would want to learn the ropes and take over from you in future?"

I've never really given it much thought - how long I'd go on doing this. I know that in all things, there would be a life span to this - the day I stop paying any attention to the customer's satisfaction is the day I should never go back through those doors. Can I see that happening? I honestly do not think so, no matter how bitter the pill gets sometimes.

And while there would be months and years where I know I would feel as if I've been handed a real dud, I still do not think that I would throw my hands up in the air and say - Here's your business, take it back.

There are different types of people in this world. Those who stay and fight. Those who stay and hide. Those who just plain run when the heat is on. And those who stay, wait, see and then decide on the best course of action.

This year and last, in all honesty, is really my first experience of "economic bad times." And there is much that have been learnt and to be learnt from it. I do know this though for a fact: At all times - good or bad, we do what we must and live with that decision.

Professionally - it means that if I have to push my counterparts till they throw their hands in the air and scream "Barbara go to bed.. NOW!", it's what I must do to get the sale locked in and closed, or get the job done.

Personally - it means that if I have to bury my head into my pillow and scream "WTF?!", take a deep breath and then say "That's fine", it's what I must do to remain being the supportive person that I have committed to be.

Do what you must - it's the only way, at the best and worst of times.